


Better Late Than Never

by MachaSWicket



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Episode: s04e10 Blood Debts, Gen, oliver needs a punch in the throat, or at least a stern talking to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 11:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5784094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachaSWicket/pseuds/MachaSWicket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY:  a “Blood Debts” post-ep ficlet, feat. Donna Smoak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Late Than Never

 

It’s a hard thing, falling out of love, but Donna has a lifetime’s worth of experience in that area.

She _loves_  love -– and not just the romantic kind of love she’s never  _really_  experienced herself. No, Donna just loves _love_ in all its incarnations –- watching people interact with their favorite person in the world, admiring how much a parent will sacrifice for her child, witnessing how a love story evolves over time.

But she also learned a long time ago just how much it stings to fall out of love. When it happens enough, you learn to keep your chin up and keep moving when it’s over.

Doesn’t matter if it’s losing the man you think might be the one, or if it’s an irreparable rift with your brother, or if it’s finally seeing with clarity the  _selfishness_  of the man you hoped would marry your daughter.

Falling out of love with the illusion of the person you thought they were? It stings like acid.

So when Donna rounds the corner, heading down the familiar tile floor to the familiar hospital room where her daughter lies in unfamiliar stillness, she is not prepared to see Oliver. Oliver, the man who offered Felicity a lifetime of love and then disappeared in a crisis _and_  its aftermath. Oliver, the man Donna was so proud to know –- until she realized she didn’t know him at all.

And there’s the sting of it -– a sharp pang in her gut as she comes to a stop, still ten paces away from Felicity’s room.

He’s approaching from the other end of the hallway with a small paper bag and a Starbucks cup. When he looks up and sees her, he freezes.

Donna evaluates him, comparing the man she _thought_  she knew with the one standing before her, the one who loves her daughter but left her to suffer through loneliness and uncertainty and pain on her own. She sees anxiety in the tense lines of his body, but dull resignation in his eyes as he takes a few halting steps to stand before her.

“Donna,” he says, and then simply watches her like he’s awaiting her judgement.

She holds her ground. “Oliver,” she acknowledges coolly.

“Donna, I’d like to apologize,” he begins, but the spark of anger beneath her ribs tells her that she is not ready to hear this.

She _shouldn’t_  be hearing this, actually. “It’s not me you should be apologizing to, Oliver,” she tells him, brushing past him and heading for her daughter’s room.

“I know that,” he says, and his tone is so forlorn that it tugs at her heart. She remembers, suddenly, that day in the loft when Felicity’s insecurities were causing cracks in the foundation of their relationship. Donna can still see the puzzled, defeated look on Oliver’s face after Felicity had snapped at him.

She doesn’t want to remember her empathy for him, not right now. Trouble is, Donna genuinely likes Oliver. It’s just that she’d let herself believe that his love for Felicity would outshine anything she herself has experienced; her disappointment at learning the truth keeps her from turning back to him. But she does come to a rather grudging halt. “ _Have_  you?” she demands, letting some of her residual anger bleed into her tone.

“Yes,” he says. She hears the rustle of fabric and a soft tread, and then Oliver rounds to stand before her again. “I have apologized to Felicity for not being here when I should’ve been,” he says. “I will keep apologizing for it.”

Donna can see the genuine regret, but it is not enough to dull her anger. “She needed you. That girl–-” Donna’s voice is cracking but she presses on–- “ _my_  baby girl –- she has always put on a brave face. She does it for your friends, for Thea, and especially for me.”

Oliver nods, a sheen of tears in his eyes. “She _is_  brave.”

Donna actually stomps her foot in frustration. “Of _course_  she’s brave, but she shouldn’t _have_  to be –- not right now,” she tells him. “I raised that girl, and I know exactly when she’s hurting or when she’s scared or when she’s lonely.” Donna steps closer. “I watched her face crumple every day for nearly a  _year_  when I got home from work, because it was _me_  coming through the door and not her father.” Donna wipes tears from her cheeks absently. “She hides it so much better now, but I’m her _mother_. I will never be able to forget the face of my heartbroken seven year old.” Donna steps closer, tilts her face up to hold his gaze. “Do you know how many times over the past few days I saw my daughter’s face fall when her hospital room door would open and _it wasn’t you_?”

Oliver is crying now, his breath coming in uneven little gasps, tears streaming unnoticed down his cheeks, and his mouth screwed up in agony. He doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t try to hide his guilt and pain. He just blinks away the tears as they fall and holds her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Some of the anger goes out of Donna, because he’s taking responsibility for his behavior. She’s not done, but she softens her tone when she says, “I know my daughter, and I know she’s already forgiven you.”

Nodding, Oliver clears his throat and manages a husky, “She has.”

Donna reaches out, laying her palm against his arm briefly. “She may have forgiven you,” she says, pausing when the muscles beneath her fingers go tense, like he’s bracing for a blow, “but deep down, she expects people to leave her because that’s the example her father set. She braces for it, and she withdraws. I believe you when you say you’re sorry, Oliver. I believe that you love her.”

“I do,” he says. “So much, Donna. I will never leave her.”

Somehow, Donna is patting his arm now, comforting him even as she says the rest of her piece. “It may take a while for her to trust you with this,” Donna says.

Oliver frowns, honestly and earnestly confused. “With what?”

Her hand drops away from him and she presses her lips together for a long moment to keep her first, unkind response from tumbling out. Because he would know if he had been here. But that is less important now than making sure he’s prepared for the sticking around part.

“Well, for one, she’s got a catheter, and she’s not going to want you involved in that,” Donna says. “She’s so weak from the damage and the surgeries that she can barely stay awake, never mind sit up for long, but you can be damn sure she’s going to want to wheel herself around. Intentional or not, Oliver, you not being here reinforced her belief that she needs to rely on herself first. I just...” Donna sighs. “She needs your support, Oliver, and I’m not sure how easily she’ll accept it.”

Oliver takes a shuddering breath and lifting his free hand to his face. She can see his hand shaking as he skims his palm along his cheek. Then he straightens his shoulders and meets her gaze. “I can’t change my– my _mistakes_ ,” he says, his cheeks flushing with what seems like shame. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Donna, but this– not being here when she needed me? It’s...” He shakes his head. “It’s unforgivable. I know I let her down, and I know I let you down, too.”

“I don’t care about me,” Donna tells him. “Felicity is what’s important right now.”

Oliver’s smile is unexpected and so beautiful –- full of that same soft joy and contentment that made Donna fall in love with the idea of him as her son-in-law in the first place. “Felicity is what’s important every moment,” he tells her. His smile fades a bit. “Even when my actions don’t show it. But I’m not going anywhere, Donna. I promise you –- I promised _her_  for better or for worse, and I meant it. She’s my family,” he adds with a small shrug, and his tone of voice implies that this should be all he needs to say.

And maybe it is -– Donna’s seen him with his little sister. It’s clear that -– however else she misjudged him -– Oliver’s heart is in the right place. Disappearing on her daughter is a mistake that it will take Donna quite some time to forgive, but she’s willing to at least call a ceasefire. Felicity needs her family all pulling in the same direction.

So Donna reaches toward Oliver once more, poking him in the chest with one sharp nail. “Let’s never have this conversation again,” she suggests. “You treat my baby girl the way she deserves to be treated and we’ll be okay.”

Oliver catches her hand as she pulls it away, clasping her hand briefly. “I promise,” he vows, then squeezes her hand before letting it go. His face is still flushed, eyes red rimmed, but he gives her a small grin and lifts the Starbucks cup. “I’m starting with this.”

The smile on Donna’s face is genuine when she answers, “That is an excellent choice for grovelling.”

She knows Felicity will notice evidence of a confrontation, but Donna hopes her focus will be on the tentative peace between them. Donna hasn’t exactly kept her thoughts on Oliver’s conspicuous absence to herself, but to head off questions as best she can, she sails into Felicity’s hospital room with Oliver on her heels. “Look who I found skulking around in the hallway.”

The tired, slightly grim expression on Felicity’s face eases as she sees them. “Mom,” she greets. “Oliver.”

Donna moves to one side, leaning down to press a kiss to Felicity’s cool cheek. “Hey, baby girl. How’re you feeling?”

Felicity doesn’t lift her head from the pillow as she smiles. “Better with you here.”

“Yeah?” Oliver asks.  “How do you feel about caffeine?” 

Felicity whips her head around to look up at him. Oliver waggles the cup in the air, and Felicity lifts both arms to reach for it. “Gimme!” she says.

Laughing, Oliver pulls the visitor’s chair closer and drops into it. “Here,” he says, carefully supporting the cup as she grabs on with weak, shaking hands to bring it to her lips. He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, doesn’t make her feel embarrassed or like she needs to thank him for the simple assistance. He just...  _helps_.

“Oh, my God,” Felicity moans after her first sip. “I love you.”

Grinning, Oliver leans down and kisses her gently. “Me or the coffee?”

“Both obviously,” Felicity shoots back with a small smile. 

And the moment of levity is the first time since Donna arrived at the hospital in a panic that she sees Felicity just...  _existing_ in the moment –- not worrying, not covering, not putting on a brave face. Just being wholly, perfectly herself. 

Donna drops into a chair, letting out a little sigh of relief. It’s a small step, but important. And watching her daughter interact with her fiance, Donna knows it happened in large part because of Oliver’s presence.

_Better late than never._

END


End file.
